Gu Yanshu hadn't been this surprised even when he learned the Emperor was eager for the next installment of The Legend of the Renowned Prime Minister.
Although Wen Qingxiao's ethereal, immortal-like persona had shown some cracks during the housewarming banquet, in Gu Yanshu's eyes, he remained a man of refined elegance and profound learning—a truly erudite scholar.
Works like The Legend of the Renowned Prime Minister, which in later eras would be dismissed by some literati as lowbrow fiction, were considered in the Tianqi Dynasty to be frivolous "miscellaneous books" that offered no scholarly benefit. By all appearances, Wen Qingxiao didn't seem like someone who would be captivated by such a story.
Yet here he was, genuinely asking about the sequel.
Seeing the faint embarrassment on Wen Qingxiao's face, Gu Yanshu concealed his own astonishment and curiosity. Maintaining his composure, he asked in a neutral tone:
"Where does the manuscript in Sixth Young Master Wen's possession currently end?"
To facilitate printing for the Daily's Strange Tales and Anecdotes section, Gu Yanshu had previously handed over a portion of the Legend manuscript to Wen Qingxiao.
Wen Qingxiao cleared his throat softly before answering:
"Ahem... It happens to end just as He San is about to take the Prefectural Exam (府试)."
The manuscript Wen Qingxiao held was actually slightly ahead of the storytellers at Guiyuanju.
Currently, the storytellers at Guiyuanju had only reached the part where the schoolteacher devises a small scheme to help He San obtain his household registration from He Wu's parents, allowing him to officially register for the exam.
Wen Qingxiao's copy, however, had progressed further: He San, using the excuse that his employer needed help in the prefectural capital, successfully convinces his parents to let him travel there.
The elderly He couple are initially resistant to He San's desire to go to the prefectural capital. They express doubts about whether he is truly going for work and complain that his absence will leave the farm short-handed, as if they are wary of something.
They only finally relent after a day of hesitation upon hearing he would earn a full string of cash for a seven-day trip.
Unbeknownst to them, that string of cash came from savings He San had secretly accumulated from a separate job.
This time, without his parents watching outside the examination hall, He San enters the venue more smoothly than before.
...
The manuscript in Wen Qingxiao's possession ended abruptly here.
He had been utterly engrossed, his anticipation for the subsequent plot built to a peak.
Would He San pass the Prefectural Exam?
Passing would grant him the rank of Scholar (秀才), a quasi-official status. Would his life at home finally improve?
If he failed, how would he tackle the Provincial (乡试) and Metropolitan (会试) exams later?
His savings amounted to only two strings of cash. After handing one to his parents, how would the remaining one sustain his future living and studies?
The manuscript's sudden end left all these questions burning in Wen Qingxiao's mind.
Now, seeing Gu Yanshu, and after much internal debate, he had decided to ask about the sequel.
Before this, Wen Qingxiao had rarely read such "miscellaneous books." In the eyes of serious scholars, they were a distraction from proper studies. This made him feel rather self-conscious.
Fortunately, Gu Yanshu's expression showed no judgment, which slightly eased Wen Qingxiao's embarrassment.
Gu Yanshu nodded upon hearing the answer. "Understood. Please wait a moment, Sixth Young Master Wen."
He then called Zhi Ge, who was waiting outside the door, and instructed him to return to the Prince's residence to fetch the material.
As luck would have it, because the Emperor was also following the story, Gu Yanshu had just two days prior asked the storytellers to compile two new volumes.
Although the current compilation progress wasn't far ahead of Wen Qingxiao's manuscript, it was better than nothing.
While Zhi Ge was away, Gu Yanshu and Wen Qingxiao shifted their focus back to the Daily. There were still a few details they hadn't finalized, perfect to discuss now.
Wen Qingxiao's small courtyard wasn't far from the Prince of Li's residence, and Zhi Ge was swift. In roughly the time it takes to drink a cup of tea , just as Gu Yanshu and Wen Qingxiao finished their business discussion, Zhi Ge returned with the new manuscripts of The Legend of the Renowned Prime Minister.
Initially, for this story, Gu Yanshu had only provided the storyteller with a basic framework after hand-holding the beginning. Thus, he wasn't intimately familiar with the later plot details himself.
With nothing urgent at hand, Gu Yanshu decided to browse through the new volumes as well. He was curious to see what magic this story held that captivated both the Emperor and Wen Qingxiao, making them eager for more.
Upon reading, he found it was still the familiar protagonist progression power fantasy he remembered.
But perhaps because the storyteller himself was somewhat educated, or perhaps due to Gu Yanshu's initial guidance, the plot development and rhythmic pacing were indeed exceptionally gripping.
Even by the standards of a later era, this kind of pacing and plot structure would attract a massive readership.
And Wen Qingxiao finally got to read the subsequent chapters, finding answers to the questions that had been puzzling him.
From the end of the prefectural exam to the release of results, there was typically a waiting period of about five days.
When He San had initially sought permission from his parents to travel to the prefectural capital, he had only asked for seven days. Deducting the time spent on the journey and the exam itself, he now had just two days left—far too little to wait for the results.
In the end, He San had no choice but to set off for home without knowing whether he had passed.
Upon returning, he first handed over the promised string of cash to his parents, appeasing their resentment over the extra farmwork they had shouldered in his absence.
He then made sure to visit his teacher at the school to report his safe return.
It was here that the teacher posed a question that caught He San off guard:
"What are your plans for the future?"
At first, He San was puzzled, but the teacher followed up with a series of pointed inquiries that left him stunned.
The Child Exam (童生试) could be taken through covert means, but what about afterward?
How would he manage the Provincial (乡试) and Metropolitan (会试) exams?
Setting aside the Metropolitan Exam for now, even the Provincial Exam required traveling to the provincial capital. If getting to the prefectural city had been this difficult, how much more complicated would a trip to the provincial capital be?
Or did He San believe that attaining the rank of Scholar (秀才) would change his parents' attitudes?
Change their attitudes?
He San knew this was nothing short of delusional.
His intelligence hadn't emerged suddenly—it had been evident since childhood.
Back then, many had urged his parents to send him to school, insisting that he could achieve great things and bring honor to the family.
He San remembered clearly that whenever outsiders praised him this way, his parents' faces would darken with something akin to anger rather than pride.
Upon returning home, they would beat him, scolding him for "lacking humility," for being "a half-filled bucket that clatters loudly," for "showing off the slightest ability."
As a child, He San hadn't understood why. Instinctively, he grew quieter, appearing increasingly dull-witted to outsiders.
Eventually, the comments about "He San's bright future" ceased altogether.
As he grew older, He San realized the truth: his parents did not want him to excel.
Though he couldn't fathom their reasoning, he learned to hide his talents.
This was also why he knew that even if he became a Scholar, their attitudes wouldn't soften—they might even grow harsher.
At this realization, the excitement He San had felt after taking the prefectural exam evaporated, replaced by a chilling dread.
The teacher was right. If the Child Exam had been this arduous, what lay ahead?
The prefectural exam had required his teacher's intervention to secure the household registration documents. But what about the Provincial and Metropolitan exams? Both would demand the same paperwork.
How would he obtain them then?
He San understood that unless he found a permanent solution, the rank of Scholar might very well be the pinnacle of his life.
Wen Qingxiao, who had initially relaxed slightly upon reading of He San's successful exam participation, now frowned deeply.
He hurriedly flipped through the pages, eager to see how He San would resolve this dilemma—only to find blank sheets. The Prince of Li's storytellers hadn't yet compiled the subsequent sections.
His abrupt movement drew Gu Yanshu's attention.
"Ahem." Catching himself, Wen Qingxiao set down the manuscript and attempted to recover his composure. "He San's journey is truly... fraught with twists and tribulations."
"He San has indeed faced extraordinary hardships."
Gu Yanshu nodded slightly, recalling the earlier plot points.
Seizing the rare opportunity to speak with Gu Yanshu, Wen Qingxiao voiced his lingering question:
"Might I ask... what deeper meaning lies behind the storyteller's narrative choices?"
Deeper meaning?
The question gave Gu Yanshu pause.
What deeper meaning could there be?
This was simply the classic "rise from adversity" trope common in protagonist progression narratives —the more the hero suffered early on, the more satisfying his eventual triumphs and comeuppances would feel.
But faced with Wen Qingxiao's serene, moonlit countenance—so emblematic of scholarly refinement—Gu Yanshu felt such an answer would seem frivolous.
After a long pause, he dredged up a suitably profound explanation:
"Perhaps it reflects the adage: 'When Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility on a person, it first tests their resolve, exhausts their muscles and bones, starves their body, impoverishes their life, and thwarts their efforts—all to toughen their spirit and strengthen their capabilities.'
...Or something like that."
Wen Qingxiao had asked merely to mask his earlier lapse, never expecting such a response.
His expression shifted subtly as he slowly repeated Gu Yanshu's words:
"'When Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility... it first tests their resolve, exhausts their muscles and bones, starves their body...'"
His reaction made Gu Yanshu realize something:
This seemingly untroubled Sixth Young Master Wen had not, in fact, led a charmed life.
A prodigy who had come of age only to meet sudden misfortune—his career obstructed, his marital prospects shaken.
Viewed this way, Mencius's words might well apply to Wen Qingxiao himself.
Raising his gaze, Gu Yanshu indeed saw Wen Qingxiao visibly moved:
"Your Highness's words strike like thunder, enlightening this humble one profoundly. I beg you to accept my bow—"
"No, no, no!"
Having previously experienced Wen Qingxiao's formal gestures firsthand, Gu Yanshu recognized the intent the moment the scholar shifted. He swiftly reached out to stop him.
Fortunately, Wen Qingxiao's mobility was limited by the wheelchair, allowing Gu Yanshu to intercept the motion just in time.
As Wen Qingxiao opened his mouth to speak again, Gu Yanshu preempted him:
"Those words weren't mine—I certainly don't possess such lofty philosophical insight!"
"Then…?"
The unexpected answer gave Wen Qingxiao pause.
He prided himself on being widely read, not only in Tianqi's literature but also in works from other nations. Yet never before had he encountered such a profoundly stirring statement.
"They were spoken by an elder named Meng Ke, revered as Mencius ."
"Might I ask where this Elder Meng resides?"
Forget The Legend of the Renowned Prime Minister—Wen Qingxiao was now wholly fixated on meeting this sage. Anyone capable of such wisdom must be a scholar of extraordinary depth.
Would I be deemed worthy in his eyes?
If not, could I ask my teacher to accompany me to seek his guidance?
As these thoughts raced through his mind, Gu Yanshu's reply came softly:
"Elder Meng… is no longer among the living."
A trace of nostalgia flickered across Gu Yanshu's expression.
Though Tianqi bore many resemblances to the nations of Huaxia's history, it remained an entirely separate reality.
The literary giants whose words had echoed through millennia in his former world—their names left no mark here.
Wen Qingxiao didn't understand why Gu Yanshu wore this look of remembrance, mingled with something akin to wistfulness.
But he could see it clearly: at this moment, Gu Yanshu seemed almost ethereal—present yet untouchable, as if part of him belonged elsewhere.
A sudden unease gripped Wen Qingxiao's heart, momentarily overshadowing his regret over Mencius's passing:
"Though Elder Meng has departed this world, his spirit surely knows he is remembered by one such as Your Highness. There can be no lingering regrets. Please do not grieve too deeply."
"You're right. There's no need for excessive sorrow."
Gu Yanshu wasn't one to dwell on melancholy.
While thoughts of Huaxia—the land where he was born, raised, and educated—stirred emotion, his post-apocalyptic experiences had taught him this above all: cherish the present, cherish those before you.
His composure returned swiftly.
Noting the shift, Wen Qingxiao clasped his hands respectfully:
"This humble one finds Elder Meng's words deeply resonant. Might I transcribe them into my miscellany ?"
Gu Yanshu knew of this personal journal—a collection of Wen Qingxiao's scholarly reflections, spontaneous poetry, and fragmented essays composed in moments of inspiration.
"Of course. As you said, if Elder Meng's spirit knows his thoughts still inspire others, he would surely be gratified."
As he spoke, a new idea crystallized in Gu Yanshu's mind:
Tianqi and Huaxia shared countless parallels, even in philosophical underpinnings.
The teachings of Confucius and Mencius, foundational in Huaxia, could serve as pillars for Tianqi's intellectual awakening.
Why not let their names resound across this land?
He himself might not be the one to do it—but wasn't the perfect candidate right before him?
His gaze drifted to Wen Qingxiao, who was carefully inscribing "When Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility…" into his journal.
Then his eyes fell upon the proof copy of the Daily's inaugural issue and Wen Qingxiao's workload report.
He shelved the idea for now.
The Daily's launch was imminent—this was the busiest period. Wen Qingxiao would have no spare energy for new ventures.
Better to wait until the newspaper stabilizes before proposing this.
Across the table, as Wen Qingxiao penned "all to toughen their spirit and strengthen their capabilities," an inexplicable chill crept up his spine.
Pausing, he glanced around, only to find nothing amiss.
After a brief, fruitless search for the source, he dismissed it as imagination and completed the entry—adding a final notation:
Source: Meng Ke, Elder Mencius.